I'm not sure why I'm sharing this, perhaps because it hurts so badly and I've learned that sharing pain sometimes does diminish its powerful hold.

When we were cleaning out my brother's apartment in April, we struggled over what to do with a very old dresser. It was in very bad shape, and everyone decided to throw it into the dumpster. But when it actually came time to heave it, I couldn't. So dear hubby took it apart, and over the past few months has been fixing it. It's not perfect, still lots of scars here and there, but hubby did manage to find the beauty that I knew was lying underneath all of the dirt and damage. We finally moved it into our spare bedroom yesterday.

At some point yesterday afternoon, I came up the stairs to put some laundry away in the linen closet. As I rounded the small landing at the top of the stairs, I saw the dresser, and in a totally unexpected moment, the entire life of that dresser flashed before my eyes...how it had sat in my oldest brother's bedroom when he was born over 55 years ago, holding his diapers and baby clothes, how it had moved from house to house with us, moving out of the family home and into Mom's new apartment after Dad died, then moving into Gary's apartment when Mom died, and finally moving into our house after Gary died...and it will eventually move into my oldest brother's daughter's house when she marries and settles in with her own firstborn.

I was overcome with just how short and fragile life really is, how so much of what that dresser saw and lived for is now gone - most of my family is gone and what's left is scarred and damaged almost beyond repair. The pain of all of those losses was/still is too excruciating for words.

So now I'm trying to focus on the beauty and joy that I just know lives underneath all of those scars and this agony-of-absence...I guess the indomitable hope is that with the right touch and lots of TLC, the beauty will eventually shine through...